So a Home
by littlequeenofthestage
Summary: In being made to move out of the Dream House, Amelia and Owen will soon be conveniently homeless. So Amelia doesn't think it could hurt to ask him if they could move in together.


**So a Home**

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 _In being made to move out of the Dream House, Amelia and Owen will soon be conveniently homeless. So Amelia doesn't think it could hurt to ask him if they could move in together._

 _Disclaimer_ _: I don't own the characters or setting._

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They'd basically been kicked out – both of them at once, because Meredith said so. And Amelia did understand her reason for leaving the Dream House, because it had been her same reason for staying in Owen's trailer since whenever. Derek's house was an inconvenient environment for grieving, haunted with memories. But if Meredith left, there was technically no one owning the house, so it would go up for sale. And Derek's work would be in the hands of strangers. And two other people would be out of a place to stay.

But she wasn't mad about it. Or she was really, _really_ mad about it, but she didn't want to seem mad, because that wouldn't be fair to Meredith. She was upset at Meredith for all sorts of things, but she couldn't judge her for wanting to move – not when Amelia, herself, hadn't slept inside the house in weeks.

There wasn't really anything she could do to stop her sister-in-law from selling, and she wasn't planning to buy the property from her. She wouldn't be able to stay in that big, empty house, all alone and thinking about Derek all day. But the alternative wasn't any better. She didn't think she could bear to see the house leave the family. It was as if she could hear Derek's voice in her head, begging her not to let it go – but then she thought of her dead baby, and her dead fiancé, and her dead father, and her dead brother again; and she knew she wouldn't be able to live alone. She hadn't done it in seemingly so long that she couldn't even remember how it was done. She didn't know how to make breakfast in the morning without Meredith and Derek and the kids and the noise, or Owen and his arms and his smile and the peace – just her and the thoughts, telling her to hurt, drink, _medicate…_

So she was going to do the only thing she could rationalize, now, tonight. She'd already rehearsed it a thousand times in her head; she'd looked in the mirror and practiced her expression for when he'd say "no." She brainstormed a million different ways to redirect conversation once her hope was shattered and her pride destroyed. She was ready now, or as ready as she'd ever be.

Owen's shift was a little longer than hers, so she'd driven home ahead of him. She had intended to wait in the trailer, pacing nervously and otherwise making no use of herself, but she never got that far. Somehow, her legs had taken over, and now held her stiffly outside Derek's house. It was cold outside, but she couldn't stop staring at the structure, walking around the building, examining.

She thought she would cry, yet she felt a sense of calm wash over her as she stood there, in the grass. Maybe she and Owen could have this, one day – a home of their own, and little kids to fill it and run around in it. She was probably thinking about this much too soon, since the two of them had just reunited after a year of separation, but she couldn't help herself. It seemed as if the story was unfolding itself without her realization – as if the future was already set, with him, and she couldn't see it any other way anymore. So it didn't seem too crazy to take their relationship to the next level.

She didn't know how long she'd been outside, and she hadn't really paid attention to the cold until she was snapped back into her senses by the sound of Owen's car approaching. She froze in place, feeling caught, and fleetingly wondered if she could make it to the trailer before he did. But there wasn't any time for that, so she sighed out foggy air and stepped back from the house, moving slowly. There wasn't anything to run from, anyway.

A minute or two after he'd parked, Amelia heard him approaching, and she didn't bother to look back and catch him in the act. She merely stared at the house before her, sighing slowly, and forming the words in her head. _Owen, we're both out of a home. Let's move in together. Owen, I'm in love with you. Don't say no. Please say yes._

"Hey..."

She squeezed her eyes shut as he grew nearer, biting the inside of her cheek. "Hey, yourself," she finally replied, trying to control the trembling in her jaw – a result of the cold and her nerves. She couldn't do this. He'd shut her down and it would hurt, because she really did love him a lot. She already felt the tears coming up as she stared through her brother's windows. This was a huge decision, and she wished she could go to Derek with it. Even if she already knew what he'd think, she wanted to hear his calm voice when he said it, and see the certainty in his eyes, and the smile when he realized his little sister was still growing up...

She felt Owen's arms come around her waist, and his chin rested on her shoulder. He fit so well against her, and he was warm and he smelled nice and familiar; and when he breathed against her neck, her skin felt a million times warmer, and she couldn't resist a smile, even while on the verge of tears. He was wonderful, and this could be so right for them, if he'd just say "yes." But she couldn't know that, and she didn't want to lose _this_ – what they already had. But nothing else seemed right. Leaving the house or staying in it or living alone anywhere else felt impossible and heavy. He made her feel light.

"You okay?" he asked in a gentle tone – calm, like her brother, causing her shoulders to loosen and her head to instinctively fall onto his. He was good, and this was right, yet she still felt like bolting. She wanted to smack herself.

 _Derek,_ she pleaded into the air, looking toward the house. _You've gotta help me out, here. I don't think I can do this._

"Amelia?"

Inhaling a deep breath, she turned her head toward him and met his eyes very closely. "Sorry. I was heading up to the trailer, but I wanted to..." She sighed. "I don't know. Look at it."

Owen seemed to understand her sentiment as he, too, gazed upon the large house. "Mer's really gonna sell this place?"

She nodded slowly. "I know why she's doing it. I just... It's like I'm losing him more than I already have." Her voice caught, and she cleared her throat. "Can't we just hold onto a little bit of him? Is that so bad?"

Owen's arms sunk on her waist, and he turned his head to kiss her cheek in a soft manner which instantly made her feel like a more important, more valuable existence. He squeezed her in his embrace and whispered, "Derek's always gonna be with us. Losing the house won't change that."

She bit her lip and replied lowly, "It's still a shame to let it go. And now we're out of a place to live."

His fingers tangled with hers down below, still so relaxed. "I've been thinking about that, you know – looking at houses. Everything's so expensive."

"Yeah," she agreed hesitantly, glancing at him sideways. She drew her head back enough to see him better, and added, "But you could always stay in the trailer. It'd save you the moving hassle."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "That part sounds good. It's the frying in summer that gives me pause."

Amelia smiled, and turned around to face him, staying pretty close so that he could pull her against him again. She lazily knotted her arms around his neck, blinking up into his eyes to study him. She couldn't read his mind, but if she were to judge from that loving look in his eyes, she didn't think he would shut her down. Maybe he'd want her. Maybe he'd already thought about it.

 _This is it, Derek,_ she announced inwardly, and her fingers fumbled through Owen's hair as she gathered her courage. _Freaking terrified, but I'm doing what you said. Definitely not running._

Owen's eyes burned into hers, lips parting, and he leaned down to kiss her. She melted into the slow kiss, either stalling or building her confidence or simply enjoying the luxury that was Owen. She released her held breath and kissed him once more, lingeringly, before retreating. When she pulled back, she caught the confusion in his eyes, and she grinned nervously. Now was the time.

 _Not running! Okay. Start talking. Say something good. Now._

She inhaled to speak, but then Owen's blue eyes caused her to falter. She couldn't remember how to start.

 _I practiced this seven times. If he'd just quit_ _ **looking**_ _at me..._

"Okay," she breathed, and gently stepped back, out of Owen's arms. She brought herself a safe distance away – by now entirely confusing the poor man – and she smiled the smile of a woman in such awkward pain that she could hardly keep from groaning.

 _Stupid Derek, hogging all the stupid romance skills._

"Did I say something?" Owen asked in the silence, clearly as uncomfortable as she was.

She shook her head immediately. "No! No, Owen, it's... I have to say something. That's all. Sorry." He still looked guilty, so she reached out to take his hands, and smiled again. "So, it seems to me like we're both out of a place to stay, and we're, um, currently occupying the same space anyway. And I like you – I mean, of course I like you, but it's more than that. It ought to be more than that by now. I mean, I've known people who got married sooner than this. But that's not- I don't want to get married!" she said quickly, trying to laugh _that_ off. "Duh. That'd be a joke, right? Wanna marry the girl who's still too afraid to say she loves you? Come on."

When she'd finished this trainwreck opener, Owen said nothing, but blinked at her in total confusion. He opened his mouth to speak, and shook his head. "Amelia, if I pressured you in any way-"

"I do," she cut him off, and dropped his hands quickly, suddenly feeling as if she weren't as close to him as she wanted to be. "And I should have said it a long time ago, but I've been so scared, because... well, you know. But I do."

She paused, expecting him to say something, or anything. He just watched her. So she brushed her hair back nervously, and looked directly into his eyes. She wasn't a scared little girl anymore. She was an adult and she was in love and he needed to know it.

"I love you, Owen," she announced, throwing her hands up. "I think I've loved you since I met you, actually, but now... I'm in love with you. And you are amazing, and so generous and caring, and so good to me when I haven't really deserved anything from you-"

"Amelia-"

"-and maybe you don't feel the same way, but I want you to know that you're not my plane crash. You are one of the best things that ever happened to me, and I don't know how you even- because my luck... _sucks._ And somehow I have you in my life, as a friend and everything else, and it matters to me, because you've made me so happy in some of the hardest days of my life. And I'm probably your plane crash, because I'm a hurricane, and pretty consistently a disaster, and I've screwed up in more ways than I even knew somebody could live through – and I'm nowhere near as good for you as you are for me, so I'm sorry. I'm sorry if I'm your plane crash, but you have _never_ been mine."

And she finally took a breath, having not stopped once so that she could get everything out. She'd been holding onto all her feelings for so long and burying them where he could never expose them – but she figured that if she was going to be vulnerable, and if she was going to ruin her best relationship with unabashed honesty, she might as well go out in all fireworks and glory.

He didn't speak for a little while – and she didn't blame him for that, because she'd given him a large amount to take into consideration – all the while leaving her in complete frazzled nerves. She stared holes into her shoes and tried not to shake. She really sucked at talking. And she _really_ sucked at being in love.

"Amelia," he finally spoke up, and she lifted her head at the sound. He had moved closer, and his shoulders were caved, as if she'd broken him. She bit her cheek, waiting for him to let her go.

But his hands came up and took hers without fear of consequence, and he gazed into her eyes as if they led somewhere distant. "You are not a disaster. You are not a hurricane or a plane crash, and frankly, I'm offended that you think so. Because you mean everything to me."

Her face fell, and she swallowed hard. She bit harder on her cheek; and he noticed, evidently, because his hands came up to hold her face, his fingers sneaking into her hair...

"I'm absolutely, one-hundred percent in love with you, Amelia," he informed her with serious eyes and a hint of a smile. "So don't call the _woman I love_ a plane crash. She is the farthest thing."

And the certainty in his eyes caused her doubt to fade, until she could no longer fear. The smile she'd been fighting finally came through, and she opened her mouth to say something. But something turned into nothing when she gave up entirely and slung her arms around him, drawing him into her. She kissed him mindlessly, powerfully, throwing all her nervous energy into it. Something about his insistence – his _refusal_ to believe that she was a mess or falling apart – made her want to believe that, maybe, she wasn't as broken and messed up as she envisioned. He loved her, so she couldn't be too unlovable. He wanted her, so she couldn't be the most damaged goods. And she loved him, too, and she felt it overwhelmingly, so she couldn't be as destroyed as she'd once thought.

Eventually, he drew back to speak again, to her chagrin – but he smiled at her, and that felt pretty good, too. "And if you were proposing that we move in together, I wouldn't be opposed to the idea."

Her eyebrows shot up. She'd forgotten her original intentions in all the mess. "Really?"

"Yeah," he said easily, brushing her hair back. "And it doesn't have to be a really permanent thing right now. It's just a place to sleep, and eat, and stuff."

"So a home," she supplied pointedly. "My home, and your home. _Our_ home."

He nodded. "Yeah. Our home."

And his eyes wandered over her shoulder, and she followed them, turning back toward the house. She looked over the lovely house, with its many rooms and large windows and beautiful colors...

She stopped thinking there, trying not to jump to any conclusions – she didn't know what he was thinking, really, so she couldn't assume that _this_ was what he meant. But she did entertain the idea now: living in Derek's house with Owen, keeping the home in the family, and maybe, one day...

And she could see it in his eyes, too. He was thinking the same thing.

"We'll talk about it more, later," she decided, interrupting the silence. She didn't want to rush into any decisions now. They needed time to weigh their options and think about their intentions with this new home.

Owen understood her mind and nodded in agreement. "Okay," he said, smiling. "Do you wanna head inside now? It's getting dark."

She looked up quickly, and observed that the sky had, indeed, grown a bit dimmer. In all the chaos of love-confessing, she'd failed to notice the sun's descent. The sunset was fading already.

"Sure," she relented, and hooked an arm around his back. They turned back toward the trailer, arms wrapped around each other's waist – each glancing back at the house once or twice more. And they began to walk back to the trailer, through the wet grass, silently. Eventually her head came to fall on his shoulder, and her eyes wandered up to the sky as he guided her distracted feet in a straight line. She exhaled in relief, saying not a word for fear of ruining the moment.

Or she didn't say anything aloud, but she certainly sent her thanks, and a smile, up to Derek. She knew that her fellow sprinter was cheering her on from up above – and she was so much stronger for it.

 _Thanks, big brother. I owe you one now, so I will try to procure the house. Just wait._

And with one glance at Owen, whose hands now wandered a little lower than her waist, her eyebrows drew together nervously.

 _And uh, you can stop watching over us for tonight._

 _Please._

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 ** _So I received some requests for a second chapter for_** ** _Take it All Away_** ** _. I wrote this instead, on my phone, under a mountain of sheets, until 5 A.M. I've appreciated all your reviews and I hope you enjoyed this story. I don't know how well I've captured Amelia's mind, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing in her point-of-view, so I regret nothing. Cheers._**


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